


Pink Like You (I'm Blushing)

by 3jelly_beanss



Category: Original Work
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Diary/Journal, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Original Character(s), Poetry, Secret Crush, Teen Romance, pls don't insult my poem i'll cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27986871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3jelly_beanss/pseuds/3jelly_beanss
Summary: Locke discovers something interesting in his friend's room, and he debates whether or not he should read the small book on Hyde's desk.Hyde has been writing poetry for a while, to cope with all of his emotions. Recently, he's started writing about a new crush to try and cope with the feelings he'll barely let himself admit.-Or, two boys are dumb and cute and have crushes on each other
Relationships: Hyde de Rossi/Locke Hannagan





	Pink Like You (I'm Blushing)

**Author's Note:**

> The poem might be cringe, don't insult me lol I liked it

A pink-haired boy had gotten his hands on something very, very valuable. He hadn’t meant to, he’d just walked into Hyde’s room to borrow a pencil, but then he’d seen the book on his desk. 

It sat on the messy, paper-covered desk, open to the world and to Locke’s intruding grey eyes. He had to go closer to get the pencil from Hyde’s desk drawer, didn’t he? What if he accidentally read it? He inched closer and decided to just do it.

The page had a few lines of Hyde’s cramped, near indecipherable script.

“Grey eyes fogging my vision, rainy skies every night. I contribute with my tears, I should really put up a fight. But I’m weak-”

“What are you doing with that?” Hyde cried from the doorway, rushing towards him. Locke blanched and picked up the book, running as far away as he could. He found himself in a corner and turned to the taller, silver-haired boy with an apologetic smile.

“I needed a pencil?” He offered, knowing it sounded like a lame excuse to intrude on Hyde’s privacy. He winced. He hadn’t meant to do anything wrong… Why did he always manage to screw up with people? “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to read it.”

The small, blue book was still clutched tightly to Locke’s chest, and Hydes stared at him incredulously.

“Well, could I have it back?” He asked grumpily, blue eyes icy.

“Wait! What is it?”

Hye looked down to see Locke had a sincere, curious expression on his face. He sighed.

“I write poetry. I know, that’s fucking stupid, but I enjoy it and-” He was getting more and more heated, and his cheeks were flushing with embarrassment, but Locke interrupted.

“I liked what I read. Could I look at some more of your poetry?” 

Hyde dragged a hand across his face with a groan. “No! Could you give it to me already?”

“You’re really good, actually…” Locke gasped, a grin spreading across his face, cheeks dimpling. “You should, like submit it somewhere! You know, get published!”

“No! Dear God, you think I want to share my deepest and most private thoughts and emotions with the fucking world?” 

Locke’s grey eyes widened. He loosened his grip on the small, blue book. “That’s what this is?” He muttered to himself, almost reverently, looking at the book. At that moment of weakness, Hyde snatched it back and tucked it protectively under his arm. He nodded silently and turned around, walking to the side of his bed, where he sat down.

“I’m sorry, really.” Locke said, standing in the same spot still. He felt pretty terrible for invading Hyde’s mind like that. He didn’t know the book was that… personal.

“It’s fine. Don’t look at this again, though, okay? Unless I give you permission or something.” 

“You could give me permission?”

“Uhh…” Hyde paused and pursed his lips and furrowed his brows at his pink-haired friend. “Don’t make me regret it, Locke. Maybe I will. Probably not, though.”

Locke had a concerning sparkle in his pale eyes, and a small smile forming on his face, a dimple appearing on one side of his cheek. “Could you read me one right now? Any one, your choice. I just want to hear your writing.” He saw how Hyde paused, hesitated, looked at the book, and he struck, whispering, “Please?”

Hyde broke. He sighed and nodded. “Fine. Sit here while I look for one.” He patted the bed next to him.

Locke exclaimed and thanked him, rushing over to sit on the bed. While Hyde thumbed through the small book, the Locke averted his eyes to everywhere else around the other boy’s room. He didn’t want to betray his friend’s trust again. The room was small, but not cramped. There were a few posters on the walls, some anime, some action movies, some video games. Piles of clothes and books and things lay on the floor, making the room look a bit of a mess. The bed was the most clean, with its plain navy sheets. Hyde had probably made it when he got up in the morning, because it didn’t look all messed up.

“I found one.” Hyde spoke up, and Locke grinned excitedly while the silver-haired boy cleared his throat.

“I like the pink

Of the sky and clouds

The sunset, sun

Bloodred like a grapefruit

His cheeks are pink

Mine are too

His lips are pink

Mine are blue

Defrosting slowly

The condensation

On a glass of pink lemonade

It’s all so 

Simple and beautiful.” He stopped and took a shallow breath. He avoided Locke’s eyes, but the pink-haired boy was puzzling over the poem still, mouth slightly open.

He startled Hyde when he let out a low whistle. “Wow. I liked that one.” He turned to his friend finally and smiled, and Hyde let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. The tall, skinny boy burst into nervous laughter, leaving Locke smiling but confused.

“What? What did I do?” He chuckled, but he didn’t know why.

“Nothing.” Hyde told him, slowly recovering, trying to catch his breath. “Thank you.”

“No problem! Tell me when you’ve got another one you can read to me, okay?” He stood up to leave, and Hyde copied.

“Yeah, right.”

Locke frowned at him, but walked to the door to leave, satisfied with that one poem. 

“Wait.” Hyde called, stopping Locke in the doorway. He strode over, something clasped in his bony fist. “Here’s a pencil.”

Locke laughed. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Hyde smiled and watched the back of Locke’s head as he walked away and downstairs. He really loved that pink mullet.


End file.
